


用

by clericalchar (selstarry)



Series: dues to the dead [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU where Hubert lives, Angst and Tragedy, Church Route, Dark, Devotion, Gen, I keep trying to rework the ending but I gotta stop, Loyalty, Mild Gore, Ruler/minister, and follows his path to the bitter end, mega angst, second person Byleth POV, suicide by cop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 11:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selstarry/pseuds/clericalchar
Summary: v.to use, to employ, to eat or drink(archaic) to be in power, to administer(archaic) to use in sacrifice





	用

**Author's Note:**

> No idea what the Japanese version of Hubert's letter says, but I came across the Chinese version today, and instead of ending with his request for them to destroy TWSITD as "the only fitting tribute to all that Lady Edelgard sacrificed," it's "给艾黛尔贾特大人的祭品." So, more like, as "sacrificial offering [to the dead] for Lady Edelgard."
> 
> Me: wow that's way hotter  
My friend: wait, is there any route where Hubert survives her?  
Me: ...  
Me: ...  
Me: *begins galaxy brain angst takes*
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry. I had to get this out of my system. Usual disclaimer that I haven't played the game and my knowledge of the story drops off embarrassingly rapidly with distance from my loyalty ship obsession.

The former Black Eagle students take to his capture with less equanimity than they've taken to any other. You sense their unease, their guilt, their anger. You note whose footsteps slow and whose quicken in front of the tent where the former Minister of the Imperial Household is being put back together bit by bloody bit.

The burial detail found him amid the corpses the day after the battle, when knowledge of his letter had spread, and had therefore opted for mercy rather than a quick and final sword thrust. But you aren't sure it was truly mercy for him to live. Not really.

You don't visit him until nearly a week later. You've been busy, sweeping up the aftermath of one campaign, preparing for the next. But, you admit to yourself, you could've found time earlier if you'd wanted to.

You were once his professor too. You were once hers. You know how this will go, and you've picked a balancing point between fresh agony and festering dread that you think you can endure.

He sits up on the cot when you enter. Your gaze trails away from livid scars you recognize a little too well. His gaze trails away from your guilty hands. Your eyes meet.

"Professor," he says. "I should have killed you when I had the chance. From this day on, I'm yours to command."

###

He gives reasonable tactical advice in the command room. He is perfectly civil to his once-again comrades, though the conversations are few and stilted anyway.

He eats little and sleeps less.

He fights like a demon on the battlefield.

You watch him. You watch him to Shambhala and back, and then the afternoon you return to Enbarr he slips from your sight. He was testing you, you know now. But you know where to find him.

You had ensured Edelgard the burial of an Emperor of Adrestia. Against every protest from the Church, she rests on holy ground, next to her siblings and ancestors. You hand-picked the soldiers who guard it at all hours from those who will never forgive her.

A single black droplet stains the carved marble threshold to the mausoleum.

You continue inside. You visit her often, and never enough. You understand it will never be enough.

Thales's severed head rests at the foot of her sarcophagus, nestled in the dried petals of flowers a campaign season old. Hubert lies beside it, long, gaunt limbs curled up in sleep, his cheek pressed against cold stone.

###

Hubert smiles as he enters your study. He knows why you requested his presence.

He didn't bother to hide his involvement in the assassinations, not when it throws only more fuel on the fire. He's ready. He'd taken the time to set up his game board beforehand, a feud here, a succession crisis there.

He's made a new chaos. He leaves it to you to steer it, as your due to the dead.

There will be very little left of the nobility in another five years.

But he will not remain to see it.You say, "I have certain responsibilities in my position. Your choices are death or exile." No point in dissembling.

"Hardly a choice," he says. "I have been weary for many years now."

You were once his professor, so you know what he means, and he knows that you had to at least try out of duty. You set out a glass, a vial, and a bottle of wine.

"An odorless, tasteless poison," he says, and laughs. "Just like old times."

You pour for him. "You could have worked with me. Must you betray a third side?"

The look he gives you is disconcerting. The stories say that those who've gone beyond the veil of death see more than they should, and here is a man who's long outlived his own soul.

But all he says, as he raises the glass, is, "I have only ever served one."


End file.
